


Drive a good girl crazy

by maxette



Category: Arthurian Mythology & Adaptations - All Media Types, Merlin (BBC)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-21
Updated: 2010-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxette/pseuds/maxette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaius's voice became very dry. "Our prince needs a dress."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
It was really Arthur's own fault for walking through the door right at that moment. What did he even need in the infirmary? He didn't have a cold, like most of court during this damp February, and Merlin wasn't expected to prepare him for dinner for another hour at least.

Arthur disagreed. He thought it was Merlin's fault for casting the spell. They were at an impasse. But Arthur disagreed about that, too. He was too angry about being a girl to argue with his manservant.

Although Merlin supposed he was a lady's maid now. He snorted.

"What's funny, Merlin?" Arthur said, narrowing his—her—ridiculously big, blue eyes at him, and putting her hands on her hips. Her femininely curved hips. "Certainly not this situation."

No, Arthur's new body wasn't funny. That wasn't the word. Arthur's tunic and leggings were very oversized now, so as he was raving and stomping about the room, he had tightened his belt around his tiny waist, highlighting his new bosom and year-long legs. His hair had grown four feet down his back.

"And why exactly were you casting spells, Merlin?"

Oh, that wasn't funny either. A while back Merlin decided that if he and Arthur had a destiny together, his magic couldn't be a secret forever. Arthur had to find out eventually, and he had to accept it. It wasn't much of a destiny otherwise, was it? _You save him and save him and then he kills you when he finds out how you saved him._ That would be a bullocks destiny.

Nevertheless, this was not quite the way he wanted Arthur to find out, when he was being so foolish and Arthur was so adversely affected. Why couldn't he have discovered him when Merlin was rescuing kittens or curing the kingdom's drought, or getting him out of trouble—one of the many, many times?

"I can—I can use magic," Merlin said, forcing himself to hold Arthur's gaze.

"Oh, can you _really_?" Arthur snapped. "And very usefully, too, it seems. If we're ever at war, you can just make all our enemies have sexual crisis!"

Merlin ducked his head to hide his smile, hoping he looked chastised enough. He was grateful that Arthur still thought of him as an ally, still knew he would use whatever power he had to help Camelot. There was no greater compliment from Arthur than knowing he saw you by his side on the battlefield.

"Well," Arthur said, gesturing down his new body, "change me back."

"Right!"

Merlin pulled his book to him and turned the page, hoping for a counter-spell on the other side. No, something about changing animal species or turning humans into animals. He turned another page. There was the counter-spell for the animal thing, nice as you like. Where was the gender swap counter? Where the hell was it?

He tried to make his actions look intentional as he flipped through to the back of the book. Why was there no section on deactivation? He had never been so frustrated at the haphazard organization of this stupid book.

"Where did you get a book of magic, anyway?" Arthur said. Merlin glanced up to see him cupping his breasts from the bottom and pushing them up together. It exposed a creamy line of cleavage behind the ties of his shirt and Merlin gulped and looked back down.

"I just—found it."

He was thinking up a more thorough excuse when Arthur offered, "Did Gaius give it to you?"

"N-no! Not Gaius!"

Arthur chuckled. "You really are an awful liar."

"Sire—" Merlin started. "Why are you accepting this so easily?"

"I don't—well. It makes sense, really. No one could be so dull without some compensation. Plus you have my penis somewhere in that book. If I'm not nice to you, I may well be stuck like this forever." Merlin stared at him. Arthur's eyes softened. "You're my friend, Merlin. Magic is dangerous, but—I trust you with it better than anyone."

Merlin blushed. Arthur was obviously connecting with his sensitive side and Merlin—liked it too much. He flipped through the pages more quickly. He had to find a cure as soon as possible. He could too easily get used to those lips, so pink and full—well, perhaps Arthur's mouth was much the same when he was a man, but it looked completely different on a feminine face.

Arthur had spied a looking glass behind a few piles of boxes and he'd bent forward to move the boxes and expose the mirror. His arse seemed just as muscular and well-formed as when he was a man as well. Not that Merlin had ever noticed it before.

"What were you doing casting that spell at all?" Arthur grumbled as he pushed and jiggled in all the right places, Merlin looked back down.

"I was aiming for a rat, but you frightened him off when you barged in." Arthur turned his head to frown at him and Merlin shrugged. "It's just exercise."

"Aren't there slightly more practical things you can exercise?" Merlin looked up again to see Arthur looking himself up and down in the mirror. He fisted all the excess cloth of his tunic in the back, stretching it over his perfect figure, looked again from the front and the side. Everywhere Arthur had been hard, straight lines he was now smooth and round. Arthur narrowed his eyes, let go of the tunic, slid his leggings over his hips, and stepped out of them.

"What are you doing!" Merlin squeaked.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Merlin, you've seen me a lot more naked than this."

No, he had _not_. Not when he looked like this. And was it his fault that Arthur insisted on lying around his room in the altogether while he waited for Merlin to break his fast? No. He'd never _asked_ for that, had he?

The tunic hung a few inches past his arse, but it sort of flew up when he moved, exposing the bottom of soft, pale globes—the book! He should be looking through the book. Right. Merlin forced his gaze down again.

"But practicality, Merlin, really. You couldn't exercise with a cure for the common cold? Camelot could really use that."

"I don't know if there's a cure for the common cold in here. Or a—" He took a deep breath. "Or a cure for this—change in your gender."

"What!" Arthur stomped toward him. "You had best be joking, Merlin."

"I'll find one! Every spell has a counter-spell; that's a law of magic. But I might not be able to find it before dinner. I think I should go tell your father that you've gone away for a little while—hunting or something."

Arthur stared at him for a few seconds, and then sighed. "Alright. I suppose it won't be so bad being in this body for a while."

Merlin grinned. "You like it!"

"I do not!" Merlin just kept smiling. "Well! I'm a prince, you know! I should—you know—experience all walks of life."

He gave an exaggerated nod as he backed toward the door. "Quite right. You're a—princess."

"Ugh!" Arthur picked up an apple from Gaius's work table and threw it at him. Merlin ducked and just missed it. Even as a girl, Arthur had very good aim. "Let's see if that mouth keeps you out of the stocks, Merlin."

Oh, great fuck. Not the stocks.

_   
**Drive a good girl crazy Part 1/2**   
_

//

  
"He's where, exactly?" Uther said, resting his chin on his fist and squinting at Merlin.

"Hunting, your highness," Merlin said again. "Alone. He wished to clear his head."

"But he did not wish to clear it with me?"

Sitting beside the king, Morgana frowned, clearly thinking Arthur should have also thought to clear it with her.

Since her return to Camelot a few months ago, Morgana had been different, but not in any way Merlin could specify. She was more fierce, less fragile, perhaps, but not always—there were moments when she seemed the same spoiled, but warm, kind-hearted girl she had always been. Most clearly, she was possessive of Arthur like never before.

Although Arthur likely would have told both Morgana and his father before he really went on a solitary hunting trip, Merlin got a little thrill even seeming to be Arthur's most trusted confidante.

"If I may, your highness, I think Arthur is only trying to understand the great responsibility and loneliness of the position he is going to inherit. You'll leave him—god forbid!—with very big shoes to fill."

Uther seemed torn between seeing produce thrown at him—Merlin knew he watched his humiliation from his tower window, he just knew it—and succumbing to the flattery. Merlin looked at his feet and tried to look small and humble.

"Very well," Uther said, finally. _You're not too happy,_ Merlin reminded himself. "When will this freshly enlightened Arthur return to us?"

"I shouldn't think more than a few days, your highness—"

"A few days!"

"Or less!" _Hopefully_ less. He backed up toward the door. "I have to get back to Gaius—cold remedy to be made, you know."

Uther sighed heavily and waved him off.

//

  
"Merlin!" Gaius said when he stepped through the door. "I can't believe you did this. I can't believe you've _implicated_ Arthur in your magic. What have I _told_ you about—" Arthur flounced out of Merlin's room, still in just his tunic, now sliding off one shoulder.

Gaius's voice became very dry. "Our prince needs a dress."

"A dress!" It was an inspired idea. "Of course! Where can we get a dress—Gwen!"

"Oh, yes," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "We'll just go to Gwen and tell her I'm your cousin who's lost all her clothes in a fire, shall we?"

//

  
"A fire!" said Gwen, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Yes," Merlin said. "Even the dress she was wearing is so badly burnt and smoke-damaged that I made her take it off right away."

"And then you gave her Arthur's clothes?"

"Er—yes. Arthur was kind enough to loan her some things before he left for his hunting trip. He's—you know, larger in the chest."

"Oy!" Arthur said, and pinched him on the arm _hard_.

"Don't listen to your cousin—he's obtuse," Gwen said. "You're perfectly slim and lovely."

"You think so?" Arthur said and that leer looked very inappropriate on a girl. "Thank you, Guinevere."

Gwen frowned and laughed. "In fact, I'm sure you're about Lady Morgana's size—so tall! And she loves helping others."

Morgana, however, or at least so it seemed to Merlin, did not in particularly want to help Arthur.

"Milady," said Gwen. "This is Merlin's cousin—oh, sorry, I never got your name."

Arthur and Merlin stared at one another for a moment, wide-eyed. "Aurora," Merlin said, finally. With obvious effort, Arthur forced his grimace into a smile and turned back to the girls.

"Your parents named you after the dawn?" Morgana said, with one raised eyebrow, as if it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Merlin thought that was unfair. Arthur was at least as pretty as a sunrise.

"It's because of all this gorgeous blond hair!" Gwen said, running her hands through it and pulling it up off of Arthur's long, pale neck. "It must have taken you years to grow!"

"Not really. My hair grows very quickly sometimes." Arthur chuckled. Merlin really needed to tell him that girls weren't supposed to look at other girls that way.

"How lovely for you," Morgana said. "I have a few simple dresses I never wear. You can keep them."

"I can pay you, milady—"

"I don't need your money." Morgana opened her armoire and went through the short, stacked piles at the bottom with nimble fingers. "I'm sure you can't afford it, after a debilitating fire and all."

Gwen winced and patted Arthur's arm before going to help Morgana. A few moments later, Morgana presented two dresses in different shades of brown and Gwen one in pale blue. "Why don't you try these on," Gwen said and then stared at Merlin.

Oh, he had to leave! Because he was a boy in a room full of girls. Right. Merlin felt his face heat up as he shut the door behind him.

He walked up and down the hallway in front of Morgana's chambers for an extraordinary length of time. He could have dressed Arthur in full battle garb five times over before the door opened again and, with a little smile, Gwen said, "Come in, Merlin."

Arthur turned around just as Merlin stepped through door. Hell's bells. Arthur had looked lovely in his tunic, but in the blue dress, low cut and carefully tailored to his body type, bringing out the color in his eyes and skin—he was stunning. His hair was in some twisty pile on the top of his head, making his whole body appear even more long and lithe.

"What do you think?" Arthur said, giving a little twirl.

"You look—" He had no words. "Thank you, Gwen, Morgana."

"It's time for supper," Morgana snapped and stomped out the door. "Come on, Gwen."

"Absolutely beautiful," Gwen whispered to Arthur and hurried after her.

"Oh, darling Gwen." Pressing down the skirt of the dress, Arthur frowned at himself in Morgana's vanity mirror. "Was Morgana acting strangely?"

"Yes—she was jealous."

"What! Why?"

"Well, I mean, if Sophia was any indication, or Vivian, you're—your own type."

"I like dark hair, too!"

"Yes, I mean—Gwen after all."

"Yes! Gwen, for example." Arthur grasped his arm and he sucked in a breath. His hand was hot through Merlin's shirt. "Do you—did _you_ find Sophia attractive?"

"I—yes." It was difficult to say so about someone who'd tried to kill Arthur, but somehow Merlin thought that wasn't the point. "Ignoring her using a love potion on you and all that, certainly she was attractive."

"So you find _me_ attractive." His voice was low.

"Arthur—" It was all too much. Merlin grinned and said lightly, "You're always attractive. I'm sure you'd make a most attractive dog."

"Oh, let's skip that one, yeah? I think we have laws about that—wouldn't want you to be overcome." Arthur huffed and faced himself in the mirror again. "Merlin, be honest: do you think my arse is too big? Do you think you could—you know, spell it smaller?"

"No!" Arthur had a luscious arse. It wasn't fair. "I mean, you don't need that."

"I suppose—it's rather the kind you can grab, isn't it? Hold on to."

Merlin made the mistake of swallowing and choked. "I wouldn't know."

Arthur gasped, somehow more embarrassing so high-pitched. "Merlin! Have you never been with a girl?"

"Er—I've done!—some things."

Merlin was looking anywhere but at Arthur. He jolted when Arthur was suddenly right in front of him and wrapping long, slim arms move around his neck.

"Poor Merlin," he said softly. His breasts were just brushing against Merlin's chest and he could hardly breathe. "And wouldn't it be easier to sort all this female anatomy out if you could do it with your best friend?"

He was more thrown by the idea that Arthur considered him his best friend, but the grander implication caught up soon enough. His intelligent response was, "What!"

Arthur threw his head back and laughed. "Got you," he said.

As casually as possible, Merlin hunched over. His pants really offered no resistance against an ill-timed erection—but was there ever a _well_-timed erection for Merlin? He sighed. Breasts made Arthur such a tease! But Merlin wasn't disappointed. Not that the sex was a joke, nor the friendship. Not at all.

//

  
Merlin brought Arthur back to Gaius's chambers to join them for dinner. The meal was going smoothly—Gaius was basically unflappable and the court physician was fed nearly as well as the court, so Arthur wasn't uncomfortable—until Uther knocked briskly and let himself into the room.

"Cold medicine," he said and inhaled wetly. "I need cold medicine."

Merlin stood up and blocked Arthur as well as he could. Gwen and Morgana had been easily fooled, but the king was more accustomed to magic and Arthur looked enough himself that surely Uther would recognize his own son.

"Of course," Gaius said and handed him a rack of phials filled with green fluid.

Uther stretched around Gaius and Merlin to look at Arthur. "And who's this?"

Merlin stepped marginally to the side. "This is my cousin, your highness." This lie was getting easier to say every time. "She recently lost her home in a fire and she's visiting while she, er—gets back on her feet."

"Ah," Uther said. "Brave as well as beautiful. Have you no family, my dear? No—husband to protect you?"

"I—I don't—" Arthur looked like he might throw up, then started giggling madly.

Merlin stepped closer to Arthur. "Her—my aunt and uncle are still in Ealdor, salvaging what they can."

"Take half of this now and half in the morning," said Gaius, putting an arm on the king's shoulder. "Come back for more tomorrow."

Uther smiled at Arthur for a few more seconds, then nodded and let himself out.

"Half, Gaius?" Merlin said. He'd been prescribing two spoonfuls to everyone else.

"You look strikingly like your mother in your present condition, sire," Gaius said to Arthur. "In my professional opinion, best the king is drugged asleep for as much as this as possible."

"My father just propositioned me! Didn't he! My own father!"

"—And the king of Camelot!" Merlin tried.

Arthur threw a fork at him this time, which Merlin thought was an overreaction.

//

  
Neither Merlin nor Arthur knew what ladies did after dinnertime when they weren't invited to court, so Merlin took him back to his room, figured out how to get his dress off, and agreed to sit with him and talk until he got tired enough to sleep. Within a few minutes, Merlin wished they'd left the dress on longer. Arthur's under-things were white and thin—a pink ribbon highlighted the shape of his breasts and the brown points of his nipples were just visible. As a boy, Arthur's nipples were just that color, but not so large, and not so tauntingly hidden.

"What did those girls do to my hair?" Arthur flopped on to the bed, tugging pieces of it out of the bun.

"Here," Merlin said, kneeling beside him. "Let me."

"And where did you learn how to take down women's hair?"

"My mother raised me alone, with no sisters…" Merlin shrugged as he un-twisted a piece of his hair. Whatever Gwen had done was much more complicated than anything he'd done for his mother—some of it seemed to be twisted itself and then twisted around one another, others in the tightest little braids.

"Ow, ow!" Arthur said. "Please remember I have the delicate hair of a newborn!" Merlin squeezed his shoulder apologetically—his soft, warm shoulder, which he was allowed to touch now. "Merlin—why didn't you tell me?"

"You knew it was just me and my—"

"No—the magic."

"You do remember that your father would have me killed? Honestly, I'm surprised that you would—" Merlin took a deep breath, worried to spell it out plainly to Arthur. If he realized what he was doing, perhaps he wouldn't do it. "That you would choose me over him."

Arthur was quiet for a few minutes, and Merlin continued to take down Arthur's hair.

"You've saved my life before," Arthur said, loud in the silent room. "Haven't you?"

"Your father would die for you," Merlin said. Arthur turned to him and raised his eyebrows. "Well—yes, I have. I believe I got this excellent situation of taking down your hair by saving your life. You're the future king of Camelot, Arthur. I'm not a knight, but I'll do whatever I can to protect you."

"Merlin—" Arthur said softly, then took one of Merlin's hands off his shoulder and turned to meet his gaze. "If you have that much faith in me, you deserve some faith _from_ me, as well."

With effort, Merlin chuckled and hid himself behind Arthur's hair again. "Hopefully we're not both mad."

Arthur breathed and moved so his back pressed against Merlin's leg—his arse, frankly, but all Merlin could feel was heat between thin layers of linen and cotton. They were still holding hands. Arthur was running his nails over each of Merlin's fingers.

Arthur was a very touchy kind of girl.

Merlin coughed and pulled back, running his hands through Arthur's hair because that's why he was here, after all, to help and nothing else.

"I'm afraid your hair's terribly tangled. Ah, but I planned for this!" Merlin stood up, grateful for the movement and produced a small silver hairbrush from his coat pocket. Morgana had a set of three and he'd snagged one before they'd left. "Would you like me to brush your hair?"

Arthur nodded and Merlin went through the thick layers of his hair, until it was smooth and gleaming like gold. He twisted it into a simple bun at the base of Arthur's head and pinned it in place.

"There." His voice was thick, like it was first thing in the morning after a night of disuse and he wondered how long he'd been brushing. "I think I have a promising future as a lady's maid."

"Don't mock yourself, Merlin," Arthur said. "That's my line."

This was when Merlin was meant to retort, but he all he could think to say was, "Do you need anything else?"

"Probably. Girls are very high maintenance, aren't they?"

Merlin had never spent this much time on Arthur's hair before, but he wouldn't call the prince exactly _low_ maintenance as a boy. He was ready to tell him so when Arthur flung himself across the bed and shimmied into the pillows, with a sleepy sort of whimper, making him look rather—adorable in the face and, as his chemise strained around his breasts and his hands settled against his hip bones, rather—provocative everywhere else.

"I'll see you in the morning." Merlin stood up and backed toward the door. "Maybe this will just ware off by itself?"

Arthur stretched, pulling the chemise a few more inches up his thighs. He had the finest, palest blond hair on his legs and Merlin wondered how different they looked normally. Was the hair thicker? Darker? Merlin had never looked, tried very hard to never below the neck whenever Arthur found some reason to strip. But now Arthur looked so warm, so—cuddly and yet so—Bullocks!

What was it about girls that made them so sweet and sexy at once? As a man, Arthur was pure, hard sex: impossible to ignore, but easy to avoid, like the sun in the sky. Now Arthur was more like the whole sky together, pale blue and fluffy clouds and then, without warning—the jut of his nipple or tongue moving across his mouth—the sun, blinding him.

"Do _you_ need something, Merlin?" Arthur said, looking at him from under his eyelashes.

"Nothing," Merlin said and then thought to crack a joke, "So contentious as a lady. Er—sleep well."

//

  
When Merlin went to Arthur's room to wake him, the first thing he saw was hair, a newly-tangled mess across his pillows.

"You really couldn't leave it in the bun?" Merlin said as he got into position to brush it all out again, a good bit less gently than last night. Why did girls keep their hair so long? Didn't Gwen and Morgana have anything else to fill the hours it took to make Morgana look like she did?

"It hurt my neck," Arthur muttered. "How does a girl ever enjoy going to bed on her back?"

Merlin choked. "I can't believe you just said that."

Arthur was silent for a few seconds, than groaned. "I'm exhausted. It was none too comfortable on my belly, either, what with the—breasts. I mean, breasts are quite—and these especially—" He yawned. "But they do, sort of—_protrude_, don't they? Uniquely."

All Merlin could see was his creamy white breasts, pressed against his creamy white sheets and then his creamy white arse rising from the bed, so Merlin could—"I'm sorry, sire."

"Mmm." Merlin brushed his hair silently for a few minutes. Arthur snorted. "I guess a girl's hair must just get tangled."

//

  
On their way to eat breakfast in the infirmary with Gaius, Arthur and Merlin ran into Gwen and Morgana. Gwen was sweet, as usual, and offered Morgana's company to Merlin's poor cousin so she wouldn't be bored all day. Arthur spent the morning with her, but found Merlin in the gardens snipping honeysuckle for the cold remedy just a few hours later. His hair was dripping out of the bun Merlin had put it in that morning, making him look like a ten-year-old who didn't know how to sit still.

"Gaius sent me," he said, holding up an ornate, silver pair of sheers and moved beside Merlin. "Is this the kind of hard laboring you do when you're not servicing me? Do you have to fill this whole entire basket full of flowers?"

"Yes. And then after that, I have to extract the nectar. It's a lot more difficult."

"I'm sure."

"It's fine, precise work! Though it's sure to be easier for you, what with your dainty, little fingers."

"Yes, how's that counter spell coming?"

"I'll keep looking after we extract the nectar," Merlin muttered.

"Morgana can really be horrible," Arthur said after a few minutes of quiet pruning. "But I suppose I never should have started talking about myself."

"Couldn't keep up the rouse?" Merlin said.

"No—well, yes, I suppose. I mean I started talking about that 'charming prince Arthur' I'd heard so much about because—well, because one must take advantage of being in disguise, mustn't one? And you were right. She is _quite_ jealous. Of me—I mean, this curvy blond thing standing before you, of Gwen, of _you_, for goodness' sake, as if—"

"Right, ha! As if you _care_ about—"

"No, Merlin, as if my relationship with you is anything like my relationship with her. It's—I—you're Merlin, after all. What does she expect?"

Merlin sighed. He didn't know. He didn't know what Arthur expected, either.

//

  
As he was walking Arthur back to the family wing that night, he noticed Chelsea, one of the kitchen maids at the end of the hall. She was red-headed, bosomy, one of the friendliest girls Merlin had ever met—the only reason he had done "some things" with a girl, in fact—and treated gossip like its steady flow was her most important duty.

Merlin jumped to stand in front of Arthur and wondered if they could run away before she saw them. What was Chelsea even doing in this part of the house?

"Merlin!" she called and started skipping toward them. "I didn't think I'd get to see you tonight! What are you doing in this part of the house? I thought the prince was on a hunting trip! Who do you have with you? Oh! Your cousin, isn't it? Gwen mentioned her yesterday. Hello! Aurora, I remember. Lovely name. Why did you take your cousin over here? Oh! Looking for a bit of privacy, aren't you? Of course! We were wondering why your cousin would come all the way here, alone, directly after a fire overtook your whole village. Naked, I heard, actually! But I hope not, gracious." She was right in front of them at this point and grabbed Arthur's hands in consolation.

"Are you—intended? Or just childhood sweethearts, hmm? Wonderful. Well, Merlin, I won't tell if you want to use the prince's bed—big and comfortable, not that I'd know myself—but you can use any of my hiding spaces, too, whenever you like." She winked. "I'm sure you remember where they are. Oh! Must go! You can't imagine how much chicken soup we've made the past week, and everyone's eating in their rooms, so I've been running in and out of the kitchen all day. Well, ta! Lovely to meet you, Aurora. I'm sure I'll see you again soon!"

"She's like a ginger whirlwind," Arthur said, watching her sashay away.

"Yes," said Merlin. He still couldn't figure how he'd gone from waiting for Arthur's dinner to receiving his first below job in an alcove, behind a tapestry depicting the great conquest of King Aldroenus.

"Quite weird for you to be using my bed to dally with your cousin. I don't know what I'm going to do about that when I get back from my hunting trip."

"Perhaps no one will hear of it."

"Please don't be deliberately daft. By tomorrow morning, the story will be you were pissing on her tits in there."

"Your tits."

"No, Merlin. You are never allowed to piss on my tits." Arthur held a straight face for a few seconds before giving into giggles and continuing to his room.

"Do you know what I heard, Arthur?"

"What?"

"Prats who mistreat their lady's maids end up with ugly hair."

Arthur didn't even dignify that with a response. "Why don't we just cut it?"

Merlin's initial reaction was akin to fear, which simmered into disappointment. Not that he particularly liked brushing all the knots out of Arthur's absurdly fine, messy hair, but it was so different from anything else he got to do with Arthur. Normally, the prince cared very little for how he looked—nor should he, really, as total disregard produced a very attractive young man. Merlin spent more time caring for his armor than he did for Arthur himself.

Not that he wanted to rub Arthur down with oil. No.

"No!" he said. "Who knows what will happen when you go back to normal? You might be—bald until your hair catches up to where it's supposed to be."

But even as he was talking Arthur was pulling pins from his bun and shaking out his hair.

"I doubt that very much," he said, produced his honeysuckle pruners from his pocket, lifted a lock of hair, and cut. Two feet twirled to the floor and—they waited.

A few seconds passed and Arthur smirked. "See, idiot—"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "It's not like I expected some instantaneous—"

Arthur yipped and they watched as the snipped lock began to grow and continued until it was even with the rest of his hair.

"Very strange," Arthur said, rubbing at his scalp, his gaze still and unfocused. "Felt like my nerves were—buzzing, almost. Like the sound of bees, but in a feeling."

"And that is why we don't cut our magically altered hair," Merlin said. He plucked the scissors out of Arthur's hand and put it in his own pocket.

Merlin helped Arthur with his dress. He'd noticed how intimate the act was the night before, but the blue dress laced up the back in a simple pull-to-tighten system, same as his shoes and his pants. This dress buttoned up the back in a long row of pearls.* Putting it on was difficult, but to take it off, Merlin had to put his hand inside the dress and push the pearls out of their holders. His knuckles pressed against Arthur's warm skin and the ridges of his spine. When he reached his chemise, he felt the dampness of the thin material and wondered if it would be more transparent tonight.

That thought was thrilling until he actually saw it was true. Arthur was practically naked, sitting on the bed, smiling at him. He could see the triangle of hair in between his legs was darker than anywhere else on his body.

"Won't you be cold tonight?" Merlin went toward the door without waiting for a response. "Why don't I go ask Gwen for some—?"

"It's warm in here actually," Arthur said just as Merlin's hand grasped the doorknob. "I think this is Camelot's first heat wave of the spring."

Which was why Arthur's under things were so damp and clinging to him in the first place.

"Right," said Merlin. "Turn around and I'll brush your hair."

"Why don't you—"

"Turn!" he barked, without thinking. He winced, waiting for Arthur to balk against being given orders. Belatedly he added, "Please, sire."

But the next thing he heard was a quiet, "All right," and when he looked again, Arthur was facing away from him. The lines of his shoulder blades and the curve of his hips were scarcely less tempting, actually. Merlin threw his shoulders back and sat down to do his duty.

"I'll pin it higher on your head tonight," he said when the hair was smooth. "That might make it easier to sleep on your back."

He held the pins between his teeth for easy access until the bun was in place. "There," he said, clapping Arthur on the shoulder as if this was all very dull and normal.

Arthur didn't move, didn't say anything and Merlin found he couldn't either. Arthur had a bit of skin Merlin had never noticed before. It was [between his ear and the start of his hairline](http://maxette.tumblr.com/post/682718044/futurisms-via-bonjoursophie), smooth and pale and with four tiny birth marks, marking the corners of a diamond.

He couldn't help himself. He moved in and took a deep breath. Arthur smelled like hay and honeysuckle and something else—something too sharp, too musky to be feminine. He smelled exactly like himself and before Merlin could think, he'd pressed his nose against Arthur's ear—dragged it from the lobe up the curve, breathing in again.

Then he kissed him right on the diamond and finally knew that Arthur's skin was indeed as soft as it looked.

Arthur gasped and Merlin pulled back just in time to watch a shiver pass through that slim, unfamiliar body.

Oh, great bullocks fuck. What was he doing? Arthur was his master, he was in the confusing position of womanhood, he was _heterosexual_, which seemed to work right now, but it _didn't_ because no matter what he looked like, Arthur wasn't interested in Merlin.

They had a destiny and it had nothing to do with all the places Merlin wanted to press his mouth.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, fumbling off the bed. "I'm very sorry. I'll just—"

And he ran before he could see Arthur's face again.

* That dress is about 600 years too early, but Merlin plays historical accuracy pretty fast and loose. Case in point: that purple halter dress Morgana wore in the pilot. So whatever.

[On to part 2!](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/8433.html)


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[master](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/tag/master), [merlin](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/tag/merlin), [merlin/arthur](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/tag/merlin/arthur), [one shot](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/tag/one%20shot), [rating: nc-17](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/tag/rating:%20nc-17), [wc: 15000+](http://community.livejournal.com/dapper_prose/tag/wc:%2015000%2B)  
  
  
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Merlin hardly slept that night and spent the first few hours post-dawn warring with himself as to whether he should wake Arthur.

The arguments for:  


  

  * He was Arthur's lady's maid and it was his responsibility to wake the princess.

  

  * Aurora really shouldn't spend that much time with other people because it was probably frustrating pretending you were an Ealdorian maiden all day long and because Arthur didn't really look that different. Someone was bound to figure it out and then they'd have magical conspiracy and widespread panic to deal with.

  



The arguments against:  


  

  * Although Arthur was really a man, he had the figure of a woman and it was completely inappropriate for Merlin to be seeing him as such. The impropriety could very well be what caused all these confusing feelings in the first place. Or unearthed them, anyway. Fucking breasts.

  

  * He was really crap at being a lady's maid. His skill level was fine for his mother, but Arthur was a princess and deserved better. Merlin should really ask Gwen to do it. Gwen knew what she was doing.

  

  * Arthur would prefer Gwen's company anyway.  


  



That last point made Merlin want to throw up which brought him to the most important point:

  

  * Merlin was maybe, possibly in love with Arthur, and it would be better for both of them if Merlin stayed away and pined and maybe, possibly got over him. There was that whole destiny to deal with, but he could support Arthur from the shadows. That would be very wizardly of him, in fact.

  



The arguments against clearly won. And yet, after he'd dressed and Gaius forced him to take a few bites of porridge, he found himself walking to Arthur's chambers and knocking on the door.

"Come in!" Arthur called and Merlin opened the door to see him standing at his mirror, the blue dress on and open in the back, his hair in a very loose, lopsided bun. He wasn't sure it was left from last night or if Arthur had tried to do it himself.

"I thought this would be easier to get on by myself," Arthur said, not looking at him. "But I can't—"

"In a hurry?" Merlin said even though he knew very well that wasn't the reason. He'd made a fool of himself last night and Arthur was disgusted.

"Yes," Arthur said. "Actually. I'm antsy after all that sitting around yesterday. I want to train."

"I'm not sure how we'll convince the knights to let my cousin spar with them."

"No! Idiot. We'll ask Gwen for help. I want to see her, anyway."

Of course he did.

"You shouldn't wear the blue," Merlin said, going to the table where the other dresses were laid out. "It'll be filthy in a second."

He held up the other brown dress. This one buttoned up the back, as well, but the buttons were bigger and there were less of them. Plus, if anything would keep Merlin's mind on the task at hand, it was the knowledge that he was preparing Arthur for Gwen.

//

  
Gwen outfitted Arthur with a bow and arrow, a set of daggers, and a sword weighted for a girl and took them to one of the smaller, lesser-used courtyards. Arthur set up targets for himself and he and Gwen laughed together. He complimented her on the quality of the weapons. She spoke of her father and Arthur consoled her over his death. Aurora's father was a blacksmith, too! What a bonding coincidence.

What was Merlin still doing here? He clearly wasn't needed. He'd nearly slipped up the stairs when Gwen called out, "Merlin, won't you stay for a while?"

He turned back. Arthur didn't look at him, but Gwen was smiling and walking toward him. He sighed and sat down on the stairs with her.

"Your cousin's very good," Gwen said. "I suppose that's what being the daughter of a blacksmith gets you. Did we meet when we were in Ealdor?"

"Yeah, you must have. She was definitely there!"

Gwen didn't notice his flimsy explanation because that wasn't what she really wanted to talk about. "Did Arthur really go on a hunting trip completely alone?" she said.

"Apparently," said Merlin. They really should have come up with a better story. Actually, Merlin never should have practiced magic towards a doorway.

"He didn't tell you before he left?" Her voice worried, almost urgent.

"No, of course he did. He's fine, Gwen."

"I don't know why he didn't tell me," she said quietly, studying her hands.

"He told me to tell you that he'd be back soon and he'd—think of you every second he was away."

"Did he really? Very strange. I would have thought he'd tell me that himself and then take you with him."

"Arthur can handle a few days without me."

"Oh, probably," Gwen said, smiling a little. "But he's out of practice, doing without you. And he just doesn't like to. I hope he's all right."

"I hope so, too." He'd be much better if he could be a boy again and come home. "I really should go. Lots to do at the infirmary."

"I should go, too," Gwen said, standing up. "Aurora clearly doesn't need any help."

Merlin was wickedly pleased. He already had images of leaving them alone and Arthur seducing Gwen with his fabulous breasts and bowing skill.

//

  
Merlin hated this fucking magic book. Sure, it had saved a few lives, but it was fucking useless most of the time. He should write his own book, The Book of Merlin, with a bloody table of contents and glossary, and appendixes, and explanations for everything instead of babbling in a language no one understood anymore.

There was a knock at the door. For a moment, Merlin was scared it was Arthur, but then he remembered Arthur would never knock. That was the reason he was sitting here, pouring through this dense, wretched tome. He covered it with one of Gaius's less secret books and called, "Come in!"

Sir Tristan opened the door. Tristan was one of Merlin's favorite knights. He was about six and a half feet tall and laughed all the time, despite having suffered the death of both his parents, a kidnapping, and the collapse of his home kingdom, if Chelsea was to be believed. He always acknowledged Merlin's presence.

"Hello, Merlin," Sir Tristan said. "Just here for a few servings of the cold remedy, please."

"A few?" said Merlin. "You don't look sick."

"No, I'm not. I want to use them to get high," Tristan said and then burst out laughing. "Just a joke! It's not for me. Head colds aren't very knightly, so there are a dozen of them doing absolute shit, as if that's better. Stay in bed, let your woman feed you soup and rub your chest, come back when you're fresh, that's what I say. As it is, I'm going to sneak it into their food. Good thing Arthur left before he came down with it. Not to tarnish the crown, but he whines worse than a colicky babe. I'm sure you can imagine."

He could. Merlin snorted and went to the sideboard where Gaius was keeping a vat of the medicine. "I won't tell him you said so."

"I'm surprised you're here."

"Where should I be?"

"With Arthur! None of the knights are pleased he went off without any of us, but we thought he'd at least take you along. Lot of help you'd be, no offense, but you'd take a deadly blow for him—we all know that.

Merlin went to Tristan and waited before handing him the rack of phials. "Sir Tristan, could I—?"

"Of course!" Tristan said, dropping himself on to a chair. "What do you need, young squire?"

Merlin set the rack on the table and moved back to his seat. "You do well, don't you? With—your women."

"Sure I do. So far. Though, few months back, I nearly set my sights on Guinevere. That'd been a mess, eh? Can you imagine? Torn between allegiance to your lady and your king? Dodged a flying dagger, I did."

"Yes, well—Arthur and Guinevere do seem very—"

In love. Arthur and Guinevere were falling more in love every day.

What was Merlin even thinking that he and Arthur—that even as a girl, that Arthur would ever want— Arthur hadn't changed _inside._ He still wanted Guinevere. Or, barring her, Morgana. Or any number of girls he'd pursued, and kissed, and dreamed about.

If Merlin were honest—and with things so confusing, he should endeavor to be as honest as possible—Merlin hadn't changed inside, either. He wanted Arthur, _still_, as he had when Arthur was a man and as he would when Arthur was back to normal again. Just another secret, another burden.

"You know—never mind."

"What's your worry with women, then?" Tristan said. He was sitting in the chair backwards now, leaning on the front legs and pinching at some blue powder in a mortar, settling in, apparently. Didn't knights have things to do?

"Oh, it's not—" Merlin snatched the mortar and pestle away from him, but Tristan just picked up a candle and started picking at the wax instead.

"Can't give her pleasure, is that it?"

"No!"

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Merlin! I was lucky with my first girl. Outspoken. Told me exactly what's what. Would you like me to enlighten you?"

_No!_ It was on the tip of his tongue, but somehow, "Yes, alright," came out instead.

"There's a button," said Tristan.*

"A button?"

"Yes. It's like magic—well, not—not _magic_, but—it's a little nubbin about your thumb's length above her entrance, all right? And I call it a button because—if you treat it like one, if you just pinch at it like you're trying to open it up—you'll never get it open, but your _girl_ will open up like a flower in the sunshine. Just rub it while you're going in and out or, even better—" Tristan moved in closer and gestured him forward. Merlin complied and he whispered, "Write the alphabet on it. With your tongue."

With his tongue!

Merlin could feel himself blushing at the very idea, but then he started to think about it—about parting Arthur's thighs and kissing all that skin and smelling and tasting everything he had inside and watching him come apart—vivid, dark, candlelit images and then Merlin felt like his ears would burn off.

Tristan grinned. "You get the idea." He scooped up the phials and stood. "Have a fine day, Merlin. And a fine night. And perk up! Arthur will be back soon."

As if on cue, Arthur came through the door. "Merlin, I'm bored," he groaned. "Any luck on the—oh! Sir Tristan! What are you doing here?"

"Caring for the sick, milady," Tristan said, bowed, took Arthur's hand, and kissed it. "You've heard of me?"

"I—of course! Your reputation precedes you, sir. Some of the—other ladies told me of you and you're not exactly hard to pick out. Bloody huge."

"You must be Merlin's cousin. I've heard a bit about you, too. I am huge—all over."

Honestly! Tristan was audacious. Did he behave this way with all women? It was a wonder Gwen's dress didn't split open before Tristan could reconsider his attraction.

Merlin stood up and went beside Arthur who was looking at Tristan with one raised eyebrow—was that skepticism or interest? Surely not interest. His arm was around Arthur's waist before he even realized he wanted to claim his property. Not that Arthur was his property. Quite the opposite, in fact. But he'd appreciate sending a message to Tristan, wouldn't he?

Yes, he did, if the sweet way he turned into Merlin's arm was any indication. Arthur put his hand flat on Merlin's chest and then curved his finger underneath Merlin's scarf, moved his fingernail against the bare skin of his chest. That certainly made a statement. But Tristan was a rake, wasn't he? A libertine. He really needed it nailed right into his forehead. Merlin pressed a kiss against Arthur's hairline and put his hand, the one which wasn't fitting just right in the curve of Arthur's waist, underneath Arthur's chin.

He turned to Merlin—they were almost the same height—so their mouths were just centimeters apart. Arthur licked his lips and moved just a little closer: all the agreement Merlin needed. He closed the rest of the space and kissed him.

Desire shot him up and down, to press them flush against each other, to cup Arthur's chest the way he was touching Merlin's, to tug Arthur's bottom lip into his mouth, to know what his tongue felt like against his, what he tasted like, to taste his neck and his nipples and in between his breasts, and to pull his hair down and pull his dress off.

But that was crass and this was just a statement, after all, so he just took in the feeling of that full, wet mouth moving against his, so he could remember it tonight, and nipped at Arthur's bottom lip, because he couldn't help himself, and pulled away. Arthur made a noise in the back of his throat and Merlin shivered.

Tristan's grin only got wider. "But I think Merlin will be able to take care of you just fine now." He winked at Merlin. "Farewell, milady—Merlin."

He left. Arthur took three steps away from Merlin, crossed his arms over his chest, and scoffed. "Well—well! He's quite a flirt, isn't he? Is that a new requirement for knighthood that no one mentioned? And what did he mean, take care of me?"

"Nothing! I mean, I have no idea. I'm sorry that—" Arthur had the bluest eyes, staring at him, not blinking. "Training bored you?"

"You're lying again," Arthur said. "And yes, training alone is very boring and I couldn't make myself jab at Gwen and you're completely useless, so I think we shall go for a horseback ride."

"Why do I need to come?"

"You'd let your cousin go riding alone?" Arthur was already out the door and Merlin hurried behind him. "It's bad enough you let the prince go off hunting by himself. In this weather, I might be dying of heatstroke and it would be all your fault."

  
* Borrowed from the great Titus Pullo of _Rome_.

//

  
"Merlin!" said Bromley, the head of the castle's stables. "I'm so glad you're here. Is it true Prince Arthur left on a hunting trip? He didn't take his horse, you know! Or any horse!"

Arthur groaned and covered his face. Merlin was such an idiot!

"Yes," he said. "He went on foot."

"On foot?"

"Yes, he didn't want to go very far. Being alone and all."

"He's alone! But—oh dear, oh dear," Bromley said, patting his mouth.

"The prince can take care of himself," said Merlin. "He'll be home—tomorrow, I'm _sure_ of it."

"And he wouldn't want you to worry yourself," Arthur added.

"Bromley, this is my cousin, Aurora," Merlin said. "I wanted to take her on a ride around Camelot. Arthur gave me permission to let her use his horse, actually."

"Yes," Bromley said, with a wink that was altogether unsuitable on such an old man. "I heard the prince doesn't mind you using a _lot_ of his things." His face turned serious. "But no, I'm not sure about the young lady using the prince's stallion. He's a strange mix of sensitive and snippy that—"

"Oh, he's fine," said Arthur, who had moved to his horse's stall and was being nuzzled. He gave Bromley a brilliant smile. "If you don't mind."

//

It was extraordinarily distracting seeing Arthur's legs, bare to mid-thigh on either side of his horse. Merlin had never understood the rule that women should be covered to their ankle so men did not lose all control at the sight of bare skin—he saw quite a bit of Morgana's breasts, after all, quite regularly—but Merlin couldn't help but think of starting at Arthur's feet and working his way up.

Bromley had outfitted the horse with a sidesaddle, as was proper, but neither horse nor rider was used to it and once they were out of city, Arthur stopped, stashed the saddle and blanket in a bush, and swung himself up on bareback.

They had been riding at an easy trot for some time and Arthur clearly had no interest in talking, so Merlin had nothing to do but think of all the places he could bend Arthur over. There were a lot of them.

Finally Arthur kicked his horse into a gallop and Merlin followed suit. Horseback riding still hadn't settled into instinct for Merlin and he really had to pay attention when he was galloping, to make sure he didn't fall off or hit himself with outcropping trees.

Arthur led them to a lake and stopped at a small shore.

"Do you—want to go swimming, sire?" Merlin said. _Naked, glistening, wet, dripping, fuck,_ he thought, _please, please say no._ Merlin would have to leave him here if he said yes.

"No!" Arthur said, dropping down from his horse. "Idiot. It's nearly dusk. I just have to piss and it's—easier with some water. Girl bits are a real hassle. You have no idea. And they have to piss _all the time_."

"Oh," said Merlin.

He took hold of Arthur's horse's reigns and led him and his own horse to the water for a drink. He was feeling very accomplished that neither whinnied nor bolted away from him when Arthur gasped and cursed.

"Ow! Oh, fuck me, ow! It burns like I'm pissing bloody lemon juice and pepper. Oh, fuck, and there's blood! Gwen told me about girls' monthly flow—"

"What! Why?"

"I was complaining it was difficult to maneuver oneself in a dress and she said, 'And isn't it so much worse at that time of the month?' and I wasn't thinking and said, 'That time?' but she thought I was being modest, and decided to tease me a bit."

"Gwen—rejoined you, then? After I left?" Merlin said, even though he knew that was neither here nor there. He wondered what they'd done, what they'd talked about. Did Arthur play at confusion and let her stand behind him? Put her arms over his and correct his form? Merlin could just see them together, warm, intimate…

"She—yes, Merlin, she did, just checking in," said Arthur. "Blood, that's the point—quite—gushy, apparently—not at all like this. And not a burning sting, just achy. Merlin, what's wrong with me?"

For God's sake, Arthur was in pain and all Merlin could think of was his own jealousy! He was a wretched manservant—a wretched friend, a wretched person. Arthur's eyes were wide: he was really frightened. Merlin had no idea what was wrong. If Arthur died because he was a _girl_, because Merlin was an _idiot_ and had turned him into a fucking girl—he didn't know what. His hands were trembling. Arthur couldn't die. If he dared, Merlin would follow him to the afterlife and bring him back.

Merlin swung off his horse and went to Arthur. "It will be all right," he said, lifting Arthur up by the shoulders and leading him back to his horse. "We'll go to Gaius."

//

  
"And this happened after a long horseback ride?" Gaius said.

"Yes," Merlin said, looking at Arthur. "We'd been riding about two hours at that point, yeah?"

"Gaius, do you need to—examine—"

"No!" Gaius said and Merlin realized he was smiling a little.

He relaxed so quickly it felt like his bones disappeared. He fell on to a chair and reached blindly across the table to grab Arthur's hand. "You're fine."

"Indeed you are," said Gaius. "I believe you broke your hymen."

"My what?"

"Your—er, chastity. It's a thin skin that covers your—opening and often a woman's husband is the first to—break the barrier, but it can easily be done by horseback riding, especially riding astride, especially without the padding of a saddle."

Gaius's furry eyebrows moved in such a way that said, _You brought this on yourself._

But really, it was all Merlin's fault for having given Arthur a hymen in the first place.

"You might draw her—him—you might draw the prince a bath, Merlin," Gaius said. "It will help with the pain."

"Come on," said Merlin, standing up. "I'll go down to the kitchens and ask Chelsea to bring hot water and a dinner plate to your room."

//

  
Chelsea was positively delighted with his sense of romance and sent a parade of maids up with buckets of hot water. Then, along with two plates of food, she gave him a bottle of wine and a tray of maple candy. "She deserves something special after that horrible fire."

Merlin went back to the infirmary for the book of magic before he took the food to Arthur's chambers. He didn't want to walk in on Arthur naked in a pool of water and he also wanted something to do because Arthur was likely to be furious at him and uninterested in any light dinner conversation.

Arthur was fully covered when Merlin arrived, wearing his dressing gown and _why_ hadn't he thought of that before? It wasn't the most feminine piece of clothing, but it still fit him in this body and best, of all, it covered him from shoulder to foot. His hair was wet and wrapped in a towel, hidden away from Merlin's hands.

"Your dinner," Merlin said and set the tray on the table.

"And yours," said Arthur, sitting down.

"Yes. Chelsea thought we'd like a romantic evening together. I brought the magic book—I'll keep looking for the cure."

Arthur nodded and stabbed a potato.

They ate silently. At this point, Merlin had looked through the whole book twice and he was scouring for something he missed, because he _must_ have missed something. "What to do if your spell doesn't have a counter spell"—say the spell backwards, he hoped, or something else simple.

"Do some magic, Merlin." He jumped at the sound of Arthur's voice.

"You really trust me to?" Merlin said. "After all this?"

"It hasn't been that bad. Rather exciting, really. Though it's a good thing no one's tried to kill me or tried to usurp the throne or anything. You had very good timing."

"You did!" Merlin said. "You're the one who walked through the door right at that moment."

"So it's my fault?" Arthur said, smiling. "Do something flashy, then."

Merlin marked his place in scouring with the ribbon and flipped to the beginning. "Let's see… I can summon the elements! What—wouldn't be destructive inside? Oh!"

He untwisted the towel from Arthur's hair, crouched in front of him, and murmured the words. He'd never been good at memorization, but remembering spells came as easily to him as reading them in the first place. Air came from Merlin's cupped hand, warm, just like he wanted it, and he moved it around Arthur's head, through his hair, as well as he could past the tangles, until it was dry and fuller and curlier than it was normally.

Sitting across from him again, Merlin looked at Arthur. He was staring at him, literally open-mouthed. "Wind!" he barked. "Wind just came out of your hand!"

Merlin bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning, but hearing Arthur say that made him feel absurdly proud. It wasn't often that Arthur was impressed by him.

"And your eyes turn amber! Did you know that? That's brilliant! You look like something's lighting you up from the inside. Do something else!"

He changed Arthur's dressing gown from blue to green to red to pink, then left it that color. He accidentally got it wet, then let Arthur take it off instead of telling him he could dry it just as easily. He lit and unlit all the candles in the room until Arthur told him to stop in case someone was looking at the windows.

"I want something sweet," Arthur groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I hate this. I never had cravings for sugar when I was a boy."

"Oh! Chelsea gave me maple candy!" Merlin bent into his bag. "And wine!"

"How could you forget about the wine?"

But he'd also forgotten cups, so they sat together on Arthur's bed and passed the bottle back and forth. Arthur ate half of the candies in, Merlin was certain, the most obscene manner possible. He was half-hard the whole time. Arthur took little nibbles, giving plenty of time for the candy to melt so he had to finish off by sucking his fingers between those lush, glossy, cocksucker lips.

Fuck.

"When were you going to tell me?" Arthur said and sucked his whole thumb in and out of his mouth. It took Merlin a moment to realize he'd asked a real question.

"Tell you what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That Merlin, that skinny, big-eared, can't-grow-facial-hair Merlin, my manservant, is a great sorcerer. When were you doing to tell me that?"

"I don't know."

"Who else knows?"

"Nobody. Gaius. My mum. That's it."

"That's not nobody. Those are people you trust more than you trust yourself." He picked out another maple candy. "I thought—I thought that _I_—I'm glad you told me."

Arthur sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and released it again. Merlin had had Arthur's lip between _his_ teeth today. Merlin took a deep breath and tried to focus. Arthur was glad he knew the truth about Merlin! That was lovely to focus on.

"I knew you'd find out eventually," he said.

"Why?"

"The dragon—"

"The one that attacked the kingdom? Or do you know another dragon?"

"Er, yes, the attacking one—before that, though. He told me we have a destiny, you and I, together."

"Ah. Yes, I suppose you can't live a _destined_ life with someone you're lying to."

Arthur ate the rest of the candy in one bite, but he'd waited too long—there was maple dripping down two fingers and his thumb. Merlin felt dizzy.

"I'm sorry I lied to you, Arthur," he said. "And I'm sorry that I'm about to—"

He couldn't say he wasn't thinking because he'd been thinking about this since he took the maple candies out. Merlin took hold of Arthur's wrist, positioned his hand below his mouth and sucked his pointer finger all the way in.

In one incredibly smooth motion, Arthur moved so he was flat on the mattress, sort of kicking at Merlin's legs so he ended up on top of him and their faces were level. "You—I hoped—" Arthur gasped, then ran his fingers through Merlin's hair, pushed his head down, and kissed him. Merlin barely had time to feel it before Arthur pulled away again and said, "This is because I have tits, isn't it? You're going to find a cure and then you—oh, I don't fucking care."

And then they were kissing again.

It was amazing. Not just the kissing, but the knowledge that he was kissing Arthur, who was kind and beautiful and teased him, who would have taken him on his solitary hunting trips, damn it, because he wanted Merlin there, and who tasted, Merlin knew now, finally, like pork gravy and maple sugar and something else, something like his smell, that he would always taste and smell like, that was _Arthur_, and the most perfect, intoxicating thing he'd ever had.

Arthur was an aggressive kisser, much more aggressive than Chelsea had been and Merlin had thought her very forward. Arthur licked the inside of Merlin's mouth like he was looking for something, bit at his lips, dug his fingers into his scalp, made these purring-growling noises that shot straight to Merlin's cock.

"You kissed me this afternoon," Arthur said. "But that wasn't just a show for Sir Tristan. Was it?"

"No."

"And you kissed me last night," Arthur said, in between sucking kissed up Merlin's jaw. "Behind my ear." He bit Merlin's earlobe. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," Merlin groaned.

"And then you ran away."

He ran his hands down Arthur's sides and caught the hem of his chemise under his thumbs and pulled it up and over his head. Arthur was stunning, a perfect female body—breasts the size of apples, trim waist, full hips. "I won't run again," he said and bent to take one hard, brown nipple into his mouth.

Arthur whimpered. "I won't let you."

Merlin kissed his way down Arthur's body, taking his time to lick every freckle, dip into his belly button, and suck a bruise against his hipbone, where the skin was stretched and Arthur would feel it beneath his belt every time he walked. Once he was wearing a belt again.

Finally, he reached Arthur's opening, his legs spread wide around Merlin's shoulders. He was pink and glistening wet and throbbing with each gasping breath, every heartbeat. He smelled amazing, like that Arthur essence all condensed in one place. He pressed his thumb against his entrance and then moved up to flick against that little, hooded bundle of skin, his button if—yes, Arthur's whole body jerked. Merlin grinned and moved in.

He wrote the alphabet out once and then moved on to writing spells, the very one that gave Arthur this genitalia and he nearly laughed, thinking, _What if this is what changed him back?_

Eventually, Arthur started grappling at his back and making these hot little noises a little too urgently and Merlin pulled away to look up at him. "Are you—alright? Did you find your pleasure?"

"Did I—Merlin, I've been finding my pleasure this whole time, practically. Girl bodies are fucking ludicrous. Come up here. I feel—empty, it's like—I want you inside me."

Merlin scrambled back up and kissed him again. Arthur pulled his tunic off—Merlin heard the seam rip a little—and then they were pressed totally together. He shoved his pants down his legs and then he had no idea what he was doing, but he thrust forward and somehow they fit exactly like they were supposed to. Hot, wet, tight, fuck—"Am I hurting you?"

"No," Arthur gasped. "I'm a bit sore from the horse, but this—makes me feel better, really, makes me feel—shit!"

Their eyes met and held as Merlin went in and out, in and out, endlessly and Merlin wanted to say, _You're precious to me, nothing will be better than this, I love you, please don't forget this when things are normal again, this is normal, can't you see that this is the most normal we could hope for?_ And when he couldn't take it anymore, he closed his eyes and kissed him again and kept kissing him until they were both soft and molded to one another for the night.

"Merlin," he heard when he was half asleep, "how did you plan to tell the rat was a different sex?"

"Wha?"

"The rat, Merlin. The one I saved from your wicked sorcery."

Merlin cleared his throat and tried to clear his head. "I didn't think that far ahead. There's a feeling, a sort of—gusty fizzle that I get when I do something right. Or do something, anyway. I wonder if the rat would have noticed a difference, or if it just would have been, you know, _where's my cheese?_ and a different position in the nightly rutting."

"That's a bit how it's been for me, actually."

"Really?" Arthur turned so they were facing one another and tucked his head underneath Merlin's chin. "You think we'd, er, be in different positions if you were still a boy?"

"This probably never would have happened if I were still a boy."

Never would have happened. Probably never would have happened if Gwen had a cock, either, or was interested in wet pussy. Merlin felt those words like a hand pushing inside, squeezing at his stomach and then pulling at his eyeballs until they stung.

"What barmy sorcerer ever thought up this spell, anyway? What use could it possibly serve?"

"Er—fertility? Or it's not the worst plan to attack your enemies with sexual crisis. Insidious, really."

"Hmm," Arthur said.

Less than a minute and Merlin heard Arthur's breathing get thicker and more even and he knew he was asleep. Merlin pet Arthur's tangled hair down to the small of his back, took a deep breath of that scent.

Never should have happened.

He never wanted to sleep again.

//

  
But he did sleep and woke up with the sunrise. He watched Arthur's calm face in the orange, morning light for a few minutes and then he went to the table for the book of magic.

The heat wave had passed and it was cold out of bed, so Merlin brought the book under the covers with him. Arthur snuffled in his sleep and found Merlin's body again, cuddling into his lap. He threw one leg over Merlin's, his breasts pressed into Merlin's side. Somehow, this casual intimacy was even more amazing than the sex last night and the sex had been—glorious—beyond his dreams and his dreams had been frequent and vivid.

He didn't want to find a cure. He didn't want to lose this to what never would have happened.

But Camelot couldn't do without its prince—some villain was sure to arrive tomorrow, if not this very hour. It was his duty, so Merlin opened the last page he'd scoured and continued.

When he found it, he almost didn't notice, moving too quickly—_not it, not it, not it, didn't I read that before?, not it, not it, there it is!, no it, no it—oh!_

He read the passage again. Yes, four pages after the spell itself, in between one to turn water into ink and another to turn ink back into water, as if the original sorcerer just remembered his exclusion and squeezed it in where he had space.

Merlin didn't know how long he stared at it before Arthur stretched awake. "Mmm—" he said, running his hands up Merlin's bare chest. "Good morning."

"I found it," Merlin said.

Arthur sat up, stretched some more, and rubbed his eyes. "What?"

"I found the counter spell."

"You—oh. Oh."

They sat next to each other in silence. "All right," Arthur said, finally. "Do I have to do anything?"

"No, you don't. I'll just—" But he didn't want to, so he said the first thing that came into his head: "What if you're pregnant!"

Arthur looked up from his hands and blinked at him. "I—I don't know what. I don't—I'm not. I'm sure I'm not."

Merlin looked back at the book. "Okay—good. I'll just."

A touch on his arm. "Merlin, I can't be the crowned princess of Camelot, you know I can't."

"Of course you can't," Merlin said.

He spoke the words. He felt the magic rush through him, felt _something_ happening next to him, but he couldn't watch.

"Er—" said Arthur, and it was really Arthur's voice, low and familiar and a little mocking because that's what Arthur did when he was uncomfortable.

Merlin finally looked and started at the sight. He'd forgotten how big Arthur was as a man, all strong, straight lines and muscles and the same smooth, pale skin, but wrapped around—Merlin caught sight of his cock because they were still _naked in bed together_ and he jumped out of the bed into the cool morning air. Back to that hard, fierce sexuality, then. Merlin felt like he was swimming in it and Arthur wouldn't want that anymore, so…

"Everything feel—normal? Are you okay?"

"Yes," Arthur said. "You know you're naked. Aren't—you cold?"

Merlin looked down at himself. Goosebumps everywhere, his cock looked tiny and his balls looked nonexistent. Fabulous display in the bright morning sun, Christ. Arthur was probably thrilled to be finished with him.

"Cold, yes. I'll just get dressed." He grabbed his tunic off the floor and found his pants stuck halfway under the covers.

"Oh, sure, if that's what you want to—" Arthur coughed. "Sure."

"I'll go have some food sent up. I suppose you arrived in the night."

"What happened to your cousin?"

"Doesn't matter. No body will remember my cousin. Gwen will ask about her, but then she'll see you again and—it will be like this never happened. For everybody."

"Really? Merlin—you—fine. Go fetch me breakfast, tell my father I'll debrief him on my hunting trip within the hour, and spread it around that I've returned." Arthur threw the covers off and jumped out of bed and then stood there with his fists on his hips, utter perfection and a—fucking huge, hard cock jutting out between his legs.

Merlin stared at it. He couldn't help himself. After last night—he wanted to taste that, see how it compared, and see how it compared tomorrow, too, and every day. He licked his lips just as Arthur said, "Merlin?"

Merlin jumped. What was he doing, licking his lips at the sight of the prince's cock? He was going to get banished from Camelot!

"I'm sorry—I'm very sorry, I—I'll get your breakfast."

And even though he'd said he wouldn't do it again, Merlin ran from the room.

//

  
He didn't mean to tell him—he didn't mean to tell anyone or even think of it again, but the moment Merlin saw Gaius, the words spilled from his mouth: "I raped Arthur last night!"

"WHAT!" Gaius yelped. Merlin collapsed on to a chair and dropped his face into his hands. "I think you had best tell me everything."

Merlin did.

"Let me make sure I understand," Gaius said. "You—forced Arthur to accept oral sex for—hours, it sounds like, and then she begged you to—penetrate her and you—did. And you think you raped her?"

"Him," Merlin said, nodding miserably. "I mean, he's a boy again."

"Merlin, have you ever known anyone to force the prince to do something he doesn't want to do?"

"Certainly: Sophia and her father, that bastard Cedric, Vivian and Trickler—"

"Anyone who didn't have him under magical influence?"

"He was under magical influence! I turned him into a girl and then I took his virginity! I'm a rapist! I should just leave, I should—"

"Why don't you talk to Arthur about this?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure he wants to be accosted by his attacker—"

"Merlin! You idiot boy! Is Arthur under magical influence now?"

"No."

"Can we agree that, when in possession of all his faculties and his—penis, apparently being essential, Arthur is twice your body weight and the _prince_ of Camelot and can make you leave if he wishes to?"

"Yes."

"So he has nothing to fear from you?"

"I—suppose not."

"Then go to Arthur. Don't talk to him if you're afraid of what might happen, but you are his manservant and you have a responsibility."

Gaius was right. Gaius was almost always right, which is why Merlin didn't want to talk to him about this. He nodded and sighed and went to the door.

"Oh, Merlin?" Gaius called and Merlin looked back. "Arthur was not a petite girl, you'll remember. If the gossip is correct, your cousin convinced three different knights that—no means no."

Merlin left and went toward the training field. It took him a few moments to realize what Gaius had meant. By the time he got to the field, he was stomping his feet and fuming. He could feel magic coursing up and down his arms, waiting to be released. He squeezed his hands into fists, as if that could keep it from flying out, and tried to concentrate on his words.

"Which one of you," Merlin called out to the knights, who Arthur had helpfully in a line, "propositioned my cousin yesterday?"

They all started to laugh. "Merlin—" Arthur said, touching his shoulder, but Merlin shook him off.

"Well, she was a bonnie maid, after all!" one of the knights said, one whose name Merlin had never learned—perfectly expendable.

"Where did she go?" said another one. He wanted to kill them all!

"She went back to Ealdor this morning because of you lot!" Merlin said. "You are the knights of Camelot! You represent this great kingdom and you need to treat women with respect, even ones that you consider beneath you. She'd just suffered a tragedy and she preferred to go back to that than put up with your pawing at her!"

None of them had any right to _look_ at Arthur, never mind touch him no matter how warm and sweet and—bendy he'd looked as a girl. If any of them had touched him, if any of them had—a hand closed around the back of Merlin's neck and he turned to look at Arthur.

"Merlin, stop it. I assure you that the two knights that approached Aurora yesterday are not here right now, as they are at home—recovering, all right?"

"Did you rip their balls off?" Merlin said.

Arthur laughed. "Not quite, but I did kick them farther into their bodies than they'd felt in a decade or so."

Merlin released his breath and felt the magic relax a little. "Good."

Arthur looked back at his knights. "Take a break, men, and look at each other and think about how you'd feel about one of them grabbing your sisters' tits. Merlin is not a knight, but he is a member of the royal household and should be treated as such."

"I'm a member of the royal household?" Merlin said.

Arthur smiled the littlest, sweetest smile, said, "You're the court sorcerer," and walked away.

Merlin watched Arthur's hips move as he retreated until Sir Tristan clapped him on the shoulder. "Merlin," he said. "I wanted to apologize personally. I did not treat your lady with the respect she deserved."

_Sir Tristan!_ Merlin remembered Arthur saying yesterday, _What are you doing here?_ Was that not their first encounter? Was his little statement too late? Had Tristan approached her before? Then why was Tristan still standing? Did Arthur _welcome_ Tristan's advances? He was certainly one of the more attractive knights. Merlin had always liked Tristan, but if he—"What did you do?"

"No! I mean, nothing serious! In the infirmary yesterday—I kissed her hand and implied—I'm sorry I helped cause her to leave. It was obvious you two were sweet on each other."

"It was?"

Tristan chuckled. "It's all in the eyes, Merlin. And your cousin is certainly an easier choice than the prince."

"What!" Merlin was ready to grab Tristan back and make him explain himself—he was feeling quite powerful at the moment, although he was surrounded by men double his size—but Gwen and Morgana had arrived on the field.

Morgana was wearing what Merlin thought had to be half a dress and was sauntering toward Arthur. Gwen stopped at Merlin's side.

"You must get jealous?" Merlin said, gesturing at Morgana's mostly-bare back.

"Sometimes I think I should," Gwen said. "But no, not really. I'm grateful that I don't. I love Arthur, but he—belongs to so many people. I'd be jealous all the time."

Yes. Merlin was. He watched as Morgana pressed her hand to Arthur's chest and Arthur laughed at something she said. He looked up and smiled at them—at Gwen, probably, meeting her gaze, and then catching Merlin's for a moment before looking away.

"I don't mind," Gwen said.

"What?"

"You will always be by his side. I truly don't mind that. I welcome it, really. Arthur needs more than just me."

"I think he'd disagree."

"I don't. Why don't you talk to him?"

Why was everyone so desperate for him to talk to Arthur?

"He's mad at me. Haven't you heard?" he said. "I defiled Arthur's bed with my cousin. At least twice."

"Actually, I heard it was more like six times and I heard a broom handle was involved," Gwen said. A broom handle? Well, that was better than pissing and a bit closer to the truth—at least in Merlin's fantasies. "But I believe no one has been in Arthur's bed except Arthur. And perhaps you."

Much like Tristan with her cryptic remarks, Gwen walked away before Merlin could respond, going to Morgana's side. Merlin just stood there for a moment, then noticed Arthur waving at him.

Merlin jogged toward him and said, "Do you need something, sire?"

"We'll be running drills all afternoon," said Arthur, "so there's no need for you to attend to me here. I'll be having dinner with the court tonight, but I'll take dessert in my room. I hear the kitchen's been making maple candy. Make sure my bed's been stripped and there's a bath waiting. Until then, you're dismissed."

For the third time that morning, Merlin was left desperate for more information, but this time he was the one who had to walk away.

//

  
It was a horrible day.

He spent the afternoon doing chores for Gaius, some of which he was sure were entirely to make his day worse, such as clearing all the tables, carrying buckets of water so he could clean the tables, and putting everything back exactly where it was before because Gaius _had a system_. And all without magic because did Merlin really want to tempt fate with the small stuff after the whole mess with Arthur?

Of course.

Once dinner had begun and the kitchen staff had less to do, Merlin went to Chelsea to ask for more maple candy.

"But I heard your girl left you, Merlin!" she said.

"She did," he said. "Well, not _left_ me, she just went home. She was always going to go home eventually."

"Poor Merlin. Do you need some comfort, my boy?"

Merlin didn't, not really, not from her, but he let himself be pushed into the alcove behind the tapestry anyway and watched Chelsea go to her knees and unlace his pants. All he could think of was Arthur. He realized, suddenly, that he was thinking about Arthur the last time, too, about whether he'd had a below job and who had given it to him and if the girl had been as cavalier as Chelsea and if he'd kissed her afterwards and tasted his own seed and that's what made Merlin shoot, embarrassingly quickly. Thinking of Arthur had got him off before, but now it just made him feel sick, like if Arthur was here, if he was in this castle, what the hell was Merlin doing elsewhere?

"Chelsea," Merlin said, grabbing up his pants and pushing her away.

"What's wrong?" she said. "You're quite ready, you can't hide that."

"I don't want you the way you deserve to be wanted. And I just—I need maple candy. The prince is expecting me."

"Well, all right, if you're in such a hurry."

All the way to Arthur's chambers, he was determined. He would tell Arthur how he felt and even if Arthur told him, _You're a mad rapist and all I want is Gwen,_ everything would be fine because they had a destiny, dammit, and if Arthur could accept Merlin had magic then he could accept that Merlin was in love with him and he'd still see Arthur every day and that would be enough.

Or maybe he'd fuck Merlin against the wall. They could do destiny like that, too.

He was determined as he sat in Arthur's chambers, keeping his bath hot with magic and fluffing his pillows until they were the fluffiest pillows Arthur could ever want to throw Merlin against. He was determined until Arthur walked through the door looking every inch a dashing prince and Merlin became blindingly hard and embarrassed at once.

"Good evening, sire," he said, looking at his shoes.

Arthur didn't say anything. And didn't say anything. Merlin looked up. Arthur was just leaning in his doorway, staring, smiling. "Evening, Merlin." He stood straight again and walked to the bathtub. "Water's hot. Good. I'm going to bathe. You're welcome to stay."

Arthur was mocking him. Merlin still couldn't find his determination, but he could take Arthur's cockiness down a notch. "I will, thanks. Help you with your jacket?"

For five very satisfying seconds, Arthur just looked at him. Then he blinked and turned around, stretching out his arms. Merlin reached around him and took hold of the sides of his jacket and pulled it off his back. Arthur smelled so good and he let himself take a deep breath of the inside of the jacket because Arthur's shocked expression was almost as good as the smell itself.

"What was that?" Arthur said.

"You smelled the same as girl, you know. I liked it. I still like it."

Some expression flickered over Arthur's face and then it shuttered off and he continued taking off his clothes. His cock wasn't hard now, Merlin couldn't help noticing as Arthur stepped into the tub. But the bruise he'd sucked into Arthur's hipbone was still there, the shape of his kisses that would fade a little every day.

He forced himself to look away and sit down at the table, facing the tub so all he could see was the back of Arthur's head.

"How was your day, sire?" he said.

"It felt good to be doing what I'm supposed to again," Arthur said. "But half the knights are sick and only a quarter of them are taking care of themselves."

"Yes," Merlin laughed. "Sir Tristan came to the infirmary yesterday, said he was going to slip the remedy into other knights' food."

"You and Sir Tristan were talking again today. You seemed friendly."

"I like him," Merlin said. For a moment, he thought of telling Arthur about Tristan's helpful advice, but thankfully he stopped himself. Perhaps after he'd sucked Arthur's cock, he'd tell him where he'd learn to suck his cunt.

"Hmm," said Arthur.

Arthur was never one to linger in the bath and he quickly started lathering his body and hair with soap. He waved his hand and Merlin went over with a bucketful of fresh water and dumped it over his head.

"Bullocks!" Arthur shouted and Merlin realized he hadn't been keeping the bucket warm.

"Sorry, sorry!"

Arthur's hair was flat against his forehead, dripping down his face, down, his chest, down his—Merlin swallowed against his dry throat and turned away to take up Arthur's towel.

"Here," he said, wrapping it around Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur jerked it away from him and rubbed it against his face. "You—idiot!" he said and Merlin realized he was laughing. Merlin started laughing with him and _fuck_, it felt good, like letting go after holding everything in for days.

Arthur kept laughing as he stepped out of the tub and rubbed himself dry with the towel.

Feeling so much better, Merlin didn't even consider not watching him, taking in Arthur's gorgeous back, his arse, his legs—the hair there was just as pale as when he was a girl and the hair around his cock just the same few shades darker. He was so fucking beautiful.

"Has my hair always been this much in my face?" Arthur said and Merlin jumped, his heart beating out of his chest at hearing the word _hair._

"Yes, you always look that silly, I promise you." Merlin made himself grin at him because things had been kind of easy and he loved that. Then he had to look away. He picked up Arthur's discarded clothes and started folding them.

"While it's still wet," Arthur said, "Merlin, would you—would you brush it back?"

Merlin tripped over his own feet rushing to the dresser for Morgana's hairbrush and over to where Arthur was standing in front of his mirror. It said something slightly pathetic that Arthur was reflected naked in the mirror and all Merlin was looking at was his hair. It was darker when it was wet. Merlin started at the side and ran the brush back. Water collected and rushed off the ends, splashing on Merlin's tunic. There was much less hair to brush now and it seemed much less likely to tangle, so he was finished quickly, all of Arthur's hair smoothed off his forehead.

That space was still there. That bit of skin between his hairline and his ear, those four diamond-marking freckles.

Merlin didn't know when it started, but now he was out of breath, gasping like he'd run here from the stables. "Do you know you—you have four birth marks here—little blond dots—" He touched each with the tip of his finger. "That's why I had to kiss you that night because—I'm in love with you."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"You're not in love with Aurora? Or—feeling guilty because you turned me into a girl or—feel like you have to because the princess begged you to fuck her last night?"

"Him—Arthur, I've been thinking of you as 'him' this whole time because you're Arthur and you're a boy—a man—the once and future king and my destiny and I love you."

He pressed his head when Arthur's neck sloped into his shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Arthur pushed him back and turned around so they were facing one another. He started walking toward Merlin with this _look_ so Merlin had no choice but to back away. Was Arthur going to kill him?"

"You're _sorry_? You had best be apologizing for waiting for so long to tell me or for running away after you kissed me the first time or for running away again this morning or for not kissing me now. You realize I could have you killed, don't you? Or tied down to my bed for my nightly pleasure, whether you wanted it or not. You must realize if anything was going to happen between us it had to come from you, because if it came from me, I'd never know if you felt _obligated_ to—not that you ever do anything I want you to because you are the worst manservant in the history of Camelot."

Merlin's legs hit the edge of the bed and he fell on to it with an, "Oof!" Arthur stayed standing, staring down at him. Merlin thought there was something very nice at the core of this speech, but his pride could only take so much. He punched Arthur in the shoulder and said, "You're in love with Gwen!"

"Of course I am! I'm going to marry her and she's going to be a glorious queen, but you—you're Merlin. You're inside me and all around me like I need you to breathe. It's terrible! You're an incredible liability, actually, but there's nothing I can do about it, so—"

Merlin kissed him. He sat up, ran his fingers through Arthur's short, wet hair, brought their faces together, and kissed him.

"Tell me you love me."

"What do you think? I love you, you idiot."

Merlin choked out a laugh and realized Arthur was naked, while he was still wearing all his clothes. He pulled off his tunic, ripping the seam even more. "Do you love me enough to fuck me into these fine, fresh sheets?" he said, kicking off his shoes and pushing his pants off with his heels. "I promise to grab your arse—it really is the kind you can hold on to, you know?"

In another superhumanly smooth movement, Arthur had Merlin's knees around his shoulders, his leaking cock head rubbing against his opening. "I suppose sometimes you do what I want you to. I always thought I'd be on top."

"Oh, you are," Merlin said, gasping at the end as Arthur tugged his nipple between his teeth. "Tonight. You just wait and see all that we're going to do."

"_You_ wait and see," Arthur said.

And everything they did the rest of their lives, Arthur woke up with his hair hopelessly tangled.

_Fin_   


**Author's Note:**

> Did you find a typo or other monkey business in this fic? I know it can feel rude or pushy or just weird to tell authors about that stuff, so [I made a form where you can report it anonymously](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1--1RxNJyJCWZPaRyBeV6jtmUrcEI0zuUkDvoJoA6A_A/viewform). Thank you in advance for making a better reading experience for future readers.


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